


See You on the Flip Side

by stone_in_focus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble, Episode: s04e08 Wishful Thinking, M/M, POV Third Person, Unrequited Love, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stone_in_focus/pseuds/stone_in_focus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's never been the right place or the right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See You on the Flip Side

Concrete, Washington. Population: 694. Home to an invisible teenage pervert, a kid with Hulk-like strength and a temper to match, a giant talking teddy bear with a booze problem…

And one very old coin with a nasty kickback.

*****

"I'm not good luck, Dean."

Crickets chirp in the dead of night as Dean does a double-take from the tarp to the trench coat, his heart turning to soft serve the moment he realizes just how much the light in those millennia-old eyes have dimmed.

Maybe it's the ache talking, but he says he doesn't mind being cursed.

*****

Dean's the first to figure out the wishes go bad.

Unfortunately, not until _after_ he's puking up a foot-long Italian with jalapeño. Maybe a couple of his internal organs, too.

"At least you only wished for a sandwich," Sam calls from the other room as Dean rinses his mouth out. "Imagine if you'd actually wished for something legit."

"Yeah," Dean says, dabbing at his face with a clean towel, "I'd wish for you to bite me, and then you actually would."

The sound of Sam's eyes rolling over in his sockets probably just woke up the Chinese. "Seriously, though. What would you really wish for?"

"What, like there's something I need I don't already got?"

"Come on, Dean; I told you my wish."

"Lilith's head on a plate. Right." Dean's pretty sure he doesn't want to know the fucked-up version of that one. "I'm tellin' you…I'm good. Got you, got Baby. What else is there?"

Sam taps a pen tentatively against the table, sizing his brother up. "Really? You're happy with things just the way they are?"

"As a friggin' clam."

Speaking of which, Dean puts a fist to his lips and races back into the bathroom, spewing up what he thinks is last week's chowder.

*****

Years from that blip of a town in Washington, there's an angel that inhabits a mirror in a seedy motel room just outside of Bumfuck, Nebraska.

It's more like a nightmare than a heavenly vision.

One look at him—battered, bruised, broken—and Dean's stomach lurches. He shatters the mirror with a swift right hook, blood streaming over his knuckles as the Mark burns.

Dean scrubs and scrubs and scrubs. The red doesn't go away.

Croaking in a pool of his own vomit seems like a dignified death compared to what's waiting for him, and leaking out of the cracks between the shards of glass staring at back him, he swears he hears someone screaming:

_You deserve exactly what you get._

*****

The weathered wood creaks beneath their feet as the Winchesters head back up the dock, leaving behind a stolen motorboat before anyone catches wind and a cursed coin sunk deep into the lakebed where the chances of some unlucky bastard digging it up are one in a million.

All things considered, it's actually one of their easiest cases. One of the weirdest, too—that's for goddamn sure—but in the end, everybody lives.

In Dean's book, that's nearly like hitting the jackpot.

*****

The next time Dean visits a lake isn't until three years later, when he's fishing out a soggy trench coat and rolling it up in his arms for safe-keeping.

Cas'll come back. He always comes back.

After Dean finds the picture of him and his brother in the left breast pocket, Cas' death finally hits him.

If that dumb sonuvabitch was really doing it all for Dean, because of Dean…he should've just _been_ here, dammit! Why couldn't Cas get it through his fucking head that all Dean ever really wanted was for him to just stick around? Why'd he have to go off and play God? A bit of rebellion's healthy, sure, but using his vessel as some primordial clown car and shoving all of purgatory up his ass? Where the hell did it all go wrong?

Then Dean remembers the green room and that dinky little angel statue.

And how he just couldn't resist tipping it over.

_Because of you, jackass. It's all because of you._

Sam's kind enough to keep his trap shut, turning a blind eye on the nights Dean burrows himself into the trench coat and cries himself to sleep.

*****

When Dean shuffles just out of earshot after Bridezilla corners him on silverware patterns, Sam pulls Wes aside. "So how did you get the coin to activate, anyway? Do a little chant and throw it in?"

Wes uneasily adjusts his glasses, smoothing back a few greasy strands of hair. "No, uh…it's even less complicated than that. I mean, yes, you could say the wish out loud or even in your head, but, um…all it really needs is a, uh…"

Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Well, a longing."

*****

Once again, Cas abandons Dean, taking off with the angel tablet and leaving Dean with deeper scars than a healing touch can get to.

He's finally gotten confirmation of what he always knew:

Cas never needed Dean as much as Dean needs Cas.

*****

The aroma of freshly-cooked noodles and sweet and sour chicken permeates the tiny space that is Lucky Chin's, and Dean almost blanks out the reason why he's here in the first place thanks to his rumbling gut, but then he spots the wishing well beneath the giant tree mural in the back.

Dean's shaking his head as he inspects it for anything unusual. Seems pretty normal to him; must be some other explanation for the weird shit going on in this town.

"Mister…mister!"

He feels a tug at the hem of his jacket and glances down at the little girl by his side, her eyes all aglow like Christmas morning.

"Do you believe wishes can come true?"

*****

It's the end of the world. Again. God's dying, and the sun is burning out. There's no time for one last hurrah or wallowing in alcohol-induced misery and regret, especially not when Dean's signed and sealed for delivery right to Amara's doorstep.

Probably not the best moment to quip that at least he'll go out with a bang, either.

As it is, Dean's lucky enough to be able to say his goodbyes, and when Cas pulls him into his arms, Dean all but melts, the smile coming easily but the swallow going down hard.

Maybe in another lifetime, they really could've had something.

*****

The motorboat putters to a stop in the middle of the lake, nothing but trees in every direction, the choppy water and a storm looming on the horizon keeping all other interested parties at bay. And maybe on a better day, Sam and Dean might indulge in a little catch and release, but right now, they have something else to let go of.

Dean reaches into his pocket to retrieve the coin, rubbing a thumb one more time over the worn-down etching. The metal feels unusually warm in his palm.

Briefly, he remembers that afternoon in the park; the empty space on the bench next to him. The empty space inside of him.

And then he thinks of the one who saved him. The one who could save him still.

Dean tosses the coin into its murky grave below.


End file.
